


Subterranean Love Affair

by Viridian5



Category: due South
Genre: Hostage Situations, Humor, M/M, Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-18
Updated: 2002-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most important things happen under the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subterranean Love Affair

**Author's Note:**

> This story was very particular about its voice, length, rating, and title. Eventually I surrendered and went along.
> 
> Thanks to Kasha for the read-through.

"This is all your fault," Ray muttered.

"I refuse to take responsibility for this," I whispered back.

"Fraser, buddy, pal, reason why we are in this Burger King sitting on the floor near a drink machine that sounds like it has major gastro-intestinal problems, you can’t stop me from putting it on you."

"Shut up!" the man with the gun yelled. "I’m trying to think!"

Knowing all too well the repertoire of inflammatory answers an irritated Ray could have to that statement, I gently elbowed him before he could say anything. He shot me a resentful look back and shifted in a way that further provided cover to the two little girls sitting behind him. He’d been trying to seat himself in a way that he’d shield at least a few more of the children in the restaurant with his body, but their parents had misapprehended his purpose and herded their offspring unwittingly out into the open. I couldn’t entirely blame them, since Ray looked particularly scruffy and disreputable right now, no matter how dear _I_ found his appearance.

And just as I knew that he would have answered the nervous gunman’s statement with a withering "Don’t strain yourself," I knew that if I mentioned his scruffiness aloud, he would only tell me that he’d been less scruffy before my wild pursuit of a purse snatcher that had become our pursuit of a purse snatcher. By the end of it, Ray looked wild himself and most of his lunch hour had been expended, thus inspiring our foray into the realm of "fast" food. Alas, it seemed that our food wouldn’t be fast today, not with operations halted by an unhinged man who thought that a Sig Sauer and his local Burger King would be conducive to making public a political statement about the homogenization of cultures caused by the New World Order.

We must have been missed by now, with Ray being late for his return to work by 23 minutes. He’d tried to flip his cell phone open and make a call or at least dial the 27th when the situation had begun, but a panicked woman had jostled him into the open and the gunman’s attention. At least Ray looked so unlike a police officer that the decision to reveal himself as one rested with him.

I’d been taken for a hotel doorman. As many times as that happened, it still offended me, not that I would show it.

Ray retained his gun. He’d also taken an opportunity to put his glasses on ten minutes earlier. As twitchy as our gunman was, he hadn’t seen that as a threat, though the moments during which Ray had slowly and carefully removed them from his jacket pocket had been tense ones. I could feel Ray evaluating the situation and the angles on a moment-by-moment basis, waiting for a safer time to make a move, though neither of us really wanted a situation in which Ray felt forced to use his gun.

It had ceased to surprise me that I could seemingly feel and hear him in my mind. This was something much more precious than mere telepathy: the gift of having been given so much of Ray’s time and self that I knew him so well, that in some ways he was always with me in spirit even when not there in body.

Fortunately, I had him with me in body as well anyway.

Ray vibrated slightly, the way his GTO did while it was stopped at a red light, waiting to move again. I felt his readiness to pounce.

When two women started to walk through the door to come in, the surprised and jittery gunman spun and raised his weapon at them. Ray and I both leapt to our feet. "Over here!" I shouted to gain the man’s attention as Ray came in to seize him, and I heard Ray curse as I dodged the incoming bullet.

Ray tackled him hard and let him take all their weight as they hit the floor, while I retrieved the gun from where it had skittered away. Ray handcuffed the man with swift, jerky movements and growled out his rights, occasionally glancing at me.

To the women who’d provided the distraction we needed, I said, "Thank you. I’m sorry for the excitement. Detective Vecchio and I are law enforcement officers and will take matters from here." The two newcomers simply continued to stare at us in shock, the same way the rest of our audience did, so I pulled Ray’s badge off his belt as proof. He gave me a small sideways smile as I did so, which inspired the usual reaction from me.

As small vengeance I took his cell phone from his belt with slower motions than I had to, though the crowd surely couldn’t notice. Ray would feel it, and that was enough. I had to admit that I also enjoyed the feel of his rough denim jeans, the warm leather of his belt, and his breathing presence beneath them.

"What happened to you guys?" Francesca asked when I identified myself over the phone. "We were looking for you."

"I’ll have to inform the lieutenant first, but I’ll apprise you of the situation when we return."

"Fraser, what the hell happened to you?" Lieutenant Welsh asked.

"After we turned the purse snatcher over to you, we seemed to have wandered into a hostage situation at a Burger King. However, all is now under control."

"With you two? You’re kidding, right? Gimme Ray."

I held the phone to Ray’s ear as he sat on our malefactor. "Yeah," Ray said. "Yeah. No gun discharge, everybody’s safe. Fraser did his usual-- Yeah, like that. Scared me out of five years of my life. I have to tell you, after we book this guy I am going out to lunch. Oh, ha ha, sir, you’re funny. I’m hungry and that makes me cranky. No, I’m not gonna stop feeding you straight lines. Yeah, lemme give you directions." After Ray did so, he nodded to me, so I took the phone from him.

"Farewell, sir. We’ll see you soon." I closed the phone and returned it to Ray’s belt. He did a wholly unnecessary but gratifying shiver in response.

"Hey, Fraser, could you watch this guy for me?"

"Yes."

Once freed from sentry duty, Ray walked over to the store manager and said, "Okay. I want a Whopper value meal, with a Coke, ketchup, pickle, and onion only on the burger. You want anything, Fraser?"

I smiled. "A chicken sandwich, please."

"And a chicken sandwich and a small water. Got it?"

The man looked shocked and almost outraged at first, then seemed to find some strength within himself to command his crew back to work. Ray’s prosaic request did wonders for the customers as well, who started to snap back to normal. If I commended him on his effort, Ray would only say that he was hungry.

"Please be seated and make yourselves comfortable. Police officers will soon arrive to take your statements." Then I went to the cashiers’ counter to stand beside Ray, who kept a careful eye on our prisoner.

Ray’s body slanted toward me as a plant would to the sun, although in this case I basked in _his_ heat. What we had--our "thing," as Ray sometimes called it--felt at once comfortable and exhilaratingly new, comfortable because it had grown out of our friendship, and new for the greater contact and physical liberties our thing involved. One day we’d both simply leaned over at the same time and it had seemed wrong not to kiss. Unlike my devouring, self-destructive lust for Victoria, my passion for Ray warmed me as well as lit me aflame.

Ray said, "Scared me out of a few years of my life, you know. One day you’re gonna do something like that, and my heart’ll just pop."

"I have more faith in the strength of your heart. In any case, it seemed necessary at the time."

"You’re a freak," Ray said, while his tone said, "I love you."

"As are you," I answered, knowing he’d hear "I love you" as well, feeling a certain small thrill at carrying on in public in a way so exclusive to us that no one else could see it.

His lean back against the counter became more pronounced, an invitation I’d take if we hadn’t been in open view. "Yep," he agreed cheerfully, but with a smile and heated sideways glance that meant "Later."

"You agree so easily?"

His smile became more wicked. "Only ’cause I’m a superfreak."

"An unsubstantiated claim."

"I’ll substantiate. Just not here and not now."

I used to be so good at placing duty over pleasure, but that was before my pleasure came to partner me in my duty.

This was going to be an interminable afternoon.

 

### End


End file.
